COLD HANDS• VOLTURI KINGS

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day Oliver feels considerably better. He supposes everyone does after a good cry. He wakes to the sound of birds chirping and sun spilling into his room, the first thing he does is sit at his desk, locate a pen and paper, and write a clear list.

REASONS TO NOT BECOME A VAMPIRE:

1. I'll leave family and friends
2. No more food
3. Always cold
4. No more sunny days out
5. No death ( scary )
6. Forced to drink blood
7. I'll be an actual king (The Game of Thrones books are terrifying, no thanks!!!)

When he reads the list for the hundredth time, his choice is obvious. He won't turn. He'll spend his days in the castle trying to form an actual relationship with the kings and he'll age and die. That's it.

Was he being selfish?

Perhaps if he were to become a vampire, he could understand just how deep the soulmate bond ran. Would his death kill the kings, or was he simply being narcissistic as to think so highly of himself?

"I hate this!" He exclaims to his empty bedroom and slumps his head on his desk, onto the useless list. Last month, he'd been deciding whether the rain in Forks would let him visit La Push with his friends and now he's debating his own mortality.

Death will bring the eternal companionship of the kings, and wouldn't that be amazing? Would that fulfill him completely? Living would mean seeing Theo and Angela and his dad. He'd age and spend a lifetime wandering the dazzling sun-soaked Volterra streets with Julia. His love would be diluted but it'd still be nice, the king would be able handle his death, they've survived this long.

It's settled then. He will live and die as a human.

Oliver ignores the way his heart sinks as he gets ready for the day.

It's too early for their first trial, so once he has washed and dressed, Oliver requests an audience with the kings in Aro's office. He knows exactly what he's going to say right until he steps into the room and three desperate pairs of eyes glue to him.  They look to him like they're not above groveling. Like they'd do anything Oliver asked. The human decides he doesn't know how to handle that power responsibly.

The human meets their gazes with his head held high and curses the way his body begs to run towards them and bathe in their auras.

"Sorry for leaving so abruptly yesterday, I just got a bit overwhelmed." That's the understatement of the year. He doesn't sound nearly as articulate as he did in his head. His words sound blocky and strained.

Aro frowns, "you've got nothing to be sorry about. Turning can be a very emotional subject. Of course we will wait for you to be ready." He says, voice soft and almost pleading. Oliver feels even worse about himself at that moment. They want him so badly, and he's going to let himself die.

He figures he should just rip the bandaid off.

"I won't be a vampire, it's my choice and I'm saying no." He declares, louder than he'd spoken his previous sentence. When the kings stare at him, Oliver feels like a parent that just told their child that Santa isn't real. He tries to soften the fatal blow.

"Not to say that vampirism isn't a tempting fate, I just can't commit to it. I'd lose too much." He's reaching, he knows he is. But something in him feels the need to console them, cradle them in his arms and tell them that his death will be nothing but a small bump in the long road of immortality. Caius steps forward, shaking his head. "But you'd gain so much more, Oliver!" He exclaims, angrily.

Aro tugs at his arm and reels him back. "Now, there's no need to waste Oliver's limited time with angry words, is there?" He's met with silence. Marcus is looking at him, but his eyes are far away, perhaps remembering some ancient memory he had locked away. "Well then," Aro sighs, he eyes him sadly and Oliver aches for him. "We respect your choice Oliver. Your commitment to do what you think is right is admirable. I do not blame you." It sounds like an obituary, the words taste like poison in his mouth.